


Where I'm Needed Most

by Severina



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Community: 25fluffyfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-27
Updated: 2008-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inwardly I curse it all -- cancer and weakness and even Brian, for hiding this from me, for being proud, for being strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where I'm Needed Most

**Author's Note:**

> Season Four cancer arc  
> Written for LJ's 25FluffyFics community  
> Prompt 20: Protection

He begrudgingly eats the soup -- well, he manages to get half of it down before shoving the bowl aside, and I just manage to snag it before it tumbles out of my hands and smashes on the floor -- and then carefully flops down onto the bed. He throws his arm over his eyes. Dismisses me with his actions.

I take the bowl back to the kitchen and rinse it out. Pour the remainder of the soup out of the pot and into the big plastic bowl that I borrowed from Debbie. I tuck it away in the refrigerator. Consider washing out the pot, but I decide to leave it until later. When I'm not so tired.

My body feels like a tightly wound spring, the tension thrumming within me. I walk quietly up the steps to the bedroom, ready for Brian to lash out at me. Ready for another argument. But Brian's chest is rising and falling evenly, his forearm still stretched across his eyes, his mouth open.

I watch him sleep, and blink back the unexpected tears that threaten to fall. Inwardly I curse it all -- cancer and weakness and even Brian, for hiding this from me, for being proud, for being strong. I curse myself, for not understanding, for wasted time, for wanting more than anything for Brian's arms to embrace me, for Brian to comfort me.

I'm just so tired.

Shaking my head to banish the futile thoughts, I steel my shoulders and silently cross the room. I carefully draw back the covers and join Brian in the bed. I lie my head on the pillow and watch him sleep, watch him breathe slowly and steadily, in and out. I study the contour of his lips and the curve of his earlobe. I just want to rest for awhile.

* * * 

I wake suddenly to find Brian's eyes on me. He's rolled onto his side and is watching me, his face inches from mine. Silently staring at me. His lashes stand out in lush contrast to the pallor of his skin, and there are dark smudges under his eyes.

I meet his gaze unflinchingly.

"You're staying?" he finally says.

If he thinks he can make me leave, he's got another think coming. My gym bag is already tucked away in the closet and my toothbrush is in the holder by the sink. I'm here for as long as he needs me.

"Yes," I answer. My voice is steady. I don't want an argument, but I'll give him one if I have to.

He blinks before carefully moving onto his back. He stares now at the ceiling.

I close my eyes and take a breath. The room smells of sickness -- of dead air and sweaty sheets and vomit and yes, chicken soup -- and in a moment I will have to get up, open the windows and air out the room. Get Brian into the shower and change the sheets. Wash the dishes and make sure Brian's got food in the loft and plan out meals and find out when his next radiation appointment is and a thousand other things. But for now I just want to lie here beside Brian. To lie here and listen to him breathing. To lie here and know that he's still here, still fighting. Still mine.

"You don't have to," Brian says into the silence.

I open my eyes and look at him, but his attention is still focused on the ceiling. I shift to get closer, my cheek against his arm, my hand resting lightly on his chest. I can feel the rapid-fire beat of his heart beneath my palm.

"I know," I answer softly.

I don't know how long we lie there in the dark. But then Brian lifts his hand from the side of the bed and lays it over mine. He twines his fingers with mine. He whispers something, and I'm not sure exactly what he says, but it sounds like 'thank you'. I raise my gaze to his, but his eyes are closed. His heartbeat slows beneath my palm.

There are a thousand things that I need to do, but I close my eyes, too. Right now, I think this bed is where I'm needed most.


End file.
